After Hours
by Orison
Summary: A post Raising Shane fic about Danny's thoughts and feelings.


**After Hours**

**Disclaimer: **This is my first attempt at a CSI:NY fic. I'm still a bit hesitant because I'm not sure I've got the characters down yet but I figured it would be easier to start with something like a post-ep piece.

Obviously, I don't own anything, and this is just for fun.

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **Set a few hours after episode #11, "Raising Shane". I tried to get into Danny's head to explain how he felt about the whole thing.

**A/N:** Feedback is welcome. I need to know if I'm going in the right direction. Also, this piece has not been beta'ed so any mistake is entirely mine. :)

* * *

The night was cold.

Dark, unforgiving and cold.

The kind of night you wish you had someone to greet you at home, someone to share your feelings with and unburden your soul.

The moon, partially obscured by a steady drizzle, cast its weak light upon the almost deserted street, aided by a few, scattered streetlights, but none of them was able to fully penetrate the gloomy darkness that had crept in over the city, bringing with it a damp chill.

Detective Danny Messer pulled up the collar of his jacket and stepped out of the subway station, shivering from the kind of cold that has nothing to do with the weather but comes from deep within.

He hadn't slept in over 36 hours, and it looked like the stress of the day was finally catching up with him. With a vengeance.

_What a day…_

First the shock of Hawkes being arrested for murder, then the realization that Shane Casey was the man behind it all; the surprise when his name appeared on the computer screen as the 'chosen' one to try and reason with the madman, down to the final confrontation in that dingy, downtown bar.

And all in less than 24 hours.

Shoulders hunched, he started to walk the familiar path toward his apartment, trying his best to ignore the thoughts spinning in his head.

"_You remember what you told me in the car that day? Huh? You said 'Shane, I know a thing or two about going to bat for your brother.' Remember?"_

"_Yeah, I remember."_

"_I know about you brother Louie…" _

The mention of Louie had caught him completely off guard, and it had shown on his face.

He'd wanted to look away, lower his gaze so that Shane couldn't see him have an emotional reaction to his words, but a slight distraction at that moment could've marked the difference between life and death. He had to keep his attention steady and the grip on his gun firm, even tough his hands couldn't stop shaking.

Despite wearing the uniform for years before becoming a CSI and having been into street fights more times than he could count, this case had affected him more than it should have.

Shane's actions had been obviously twisted, and yet the look of utter desperation at the news of his brother's guilt had struck a chord inside Danny, his own heart still on the mend.

_Way to go, Messer, _he chastisized himself

A sudden voice coming from nearby startled him, and he turned to see two guys in oversized clothes and bright-colored bandanas yelling at each other. Quickening his pace, Danny crossed the street and walked the last two blocks to his building, burying his hands deep into his pockets.

He didn't need any more trouble today.

* * *

His hands were still shaking as he fumbled with the keys. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to find the right one. 

Danny closed his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath, and willed himself to calm down. Everything had turned out fine after all. Hawkes had been cleared, Shane arrested, his case solved.

Then why was he still feeling edgy and most of all, completely vulnerable?

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the wooden door of his apartment, then banged his head against the hard surface. Once. Twice. Three times.

His emotions had been exposed in that bar, broadcast live for Shane, Mac and the whole damn NYPD courtesy of the wire he was wearing. They'd all listened to his voice crack and learned the truth about his brother. Strange enough, the thought wasn't bothering him near as badly as the words themselves.

"_Yeah, always relying on his younger brother to bail him out, right? And you always did. Guess we do have a couple things in common…"_

He'd read once that the most intimate emotion two people can share is neither love nor desire but pain. Well, whoever had said that knew what he was talking about. Shane Casey had felt a connection with him and as much as Danny hated to admit it, he'd felt something too.

Straightening up, he rubbed a hand over his face and looked at the keys still resting in his palm.

When he finally selected the right one he slid it into the lock, pushed the door open and quickly stepped inside the apartment.

The living room was filled with an unearthly quiet, bathed in the soft, yellow light coming from the single lamp on the end table that he usually left on.

Sighing, he shrugged out of his jacket and walked over to the couch, only to change his mind a moment later and head towards the kitchen to get himself a beer. He downed half of it before even closing the fridge so he decided to grab another and took them both with him to the living room.

The clear liquid felt so good, and he desperately needed to forget...

An indefinite time later, three more bottles stood beside the first two on the coffee table, and he was still sitting on the couch, staring at an old picture of him and Louie he'd pulled from his wallet without even realizing it.

He took it in his hands, his fingers gently tracing its crumpled edges and slouched onto the leather sofa as the two familiar faces smiled at him, memories of a forgotten time.

"_Man, I know what it's like to wanna believe, Shane, I really do. You say to yourself over and over again 'I know, but there's no way he could do this, not this.' I know what it's like."_

Guilt, regret, anger; all the emotions he'd refused to deal with in the past few months were slowly coming to the surface, and he wasn't sure he was ready to handle them.

He clenched his fists and tried to take a deep breath to relieve some of the tension building in his body, upset at how easily that 'confession' had slipped out of his mouth.

That level of intimacy you usually don't share with a total stranger, let alone a criminal, and yet there he'd been, pouring his heart out to Shane Casey not once but twice. He'd tried to reason with himself that it'd all been for the sake of the job, that that's exactly what the kid wanted to hear... wasn't it?

Louie was a screw-up, something he allowed himself to acknowledge only once in a while, but it was also his brother, and true to the 'blood is thicker than water' saying he couldn't stop caring about him, even if that meant bailing him out one time too many.

Leaning his aching head back against the cushion he closed his eyes but the picture was still there, those smiles so infectious he just had to wonder what had grown them apart. Misunderstandings? Guilt? Pride?

"_Get outta here, hit the road, D! You embarrass me in front of my boys? Get outta here, you're a disgrace!"_

Things had never been the same between them since that summer of '91, but why hadn't he ever pushed for an explanation, or simply tried harder until it was too late?

"_They found that kid in the hole, Sonny. They think my brother's got something to do with this."_

"_What do you want me to do, walk in and confess that up to Mac Taylor?"_

"_You know that my brother wasn't there. I punked him outta there. I knew where you were going that night and he wasn't ready to see all that."_

He'd had to learn the truth from a damn tape.

Louie had made the ultimate sacrifice, knowing full well what he was getting himself into. How do you deal with something like that?

How do you thank your brother for ruining the last 15 years of your life? For letting you carry the burden of your broken relationship alone, wrecking with guilt night after night over the loss of the only person you'd ever counted on? For distancing yourself from everything and everyone, going to school and getting a degree just to prove that you're not a disgrace?

How do you thank your brother for bruising your face and ego... and ultimately saving your life?

"_We did everything we could forensically but in the end, it was Louie who saved you." _

Hanging his head, Danny raked a hand through his hair. He looked at the bottle resting in his palm, fighting against the blinding, overwhelming urge to drink himself into unconsciousnes. No one would care after all. No one would notice.

Or maybe not.

As if on cue, he heard a soft rap on the door.

His tired mind tried to come up with a reason as to why someone would visit him at this hour but he couldn't find any so he just decided to ignore it._ Ignore it and it'll go away. _Unfortunately, the person on the other side of the door had other plans and knocked again, this time more insistently.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming," he finally croaked out, pushing himself off the couch. He turned the lock and unhooked the chain, finding himself face to face with a weary-looking Flack.

"Hey," the man smiled, raising one hand in a waving gesture.

"Hey,"

"I uh, just got back from the station. Shane Casey's getting the fast treatment. He's going to be arraigned tomorrow."

Danny nodded and looked at him for a long moment, trying to read between the lines. "You could've called" he eventually said, arms crossed over the Mets logo on his t-shirt.

Flack shrugged. "I was in the area." He noticed the distress marking his friend's face, the haunted look in his eyes and realized his instinct had been right when he'd decided to take a little detour and check on him before going home. "How you doing?"

"Me?" He cleared his throat, trying to distance himself from his feelings. "I'm not the one who spent the day into an orange jumpsuit."

A deep silence fell over them for a long, tense moment. Danny lowered his head, knowing full well what he meant but still unable to express how he really felt about it.

Flack sighed. The guy was one of his best friends so he was familiar with his backstory and understood what he was going through. Still, he acknowledged that Danny could be a bit of a drama queen sometimes and hated it when he wouldn't speak to him. It was far more preferable seeing him mad.

"So, are you going to let me in or should I make myself comfortable on your doormat?"

Smirking, Danny stepped aside and motioned him in. Flack frowned as he took in his surroundings. His gaze travelled from the mute TV in the background to the scattered beer bottles, coming to rest on the folded photograph sitting on the couch.

"Got any beer left?" he asked nonchalantly.

"You know where the fridge is."

Danny's gaze followed him to the other room and back until they both relaxed into the sofa cushions. The room lapsed back into silence. Not the ominous one that had haunted them earlier, just two people so comfortable with each other they no longer needed words.

THE END


End file.
